Would you Mind?
by That-is-illogical
Summary: Sherlock Holmes... mind reader?
1. Chapter 1

"It was painted over! There was graffiti there... ten minutes ago..." said John.

"Somebody doesn't want me to see them," said Sherlock, grabbing John's head. "John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes."

"Wh-what? Why? Why? What are you doing?"

"I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?"

"Yeah... " John was getting slightly disorientated with Sherlock spinning him around like that.

Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely!"

"You remember the pattern?"

"Yes!"

"How much can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry!" reassured John.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate," he informed, finally coming to a halt.

Before John could get an answer in, Sherlock ripped off both his gloves with his teeth and placed his hands back on John's head, closing his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath.

He gasped. "You. Y-You're... inside... my... my mind..."

Sherlock opened his eyes and drew his hands away.

"And what an average mind it is. I could only get about half the symbols."

John was so stunned that he missed the condescending comment and just opened and closed his mouth in surprise.

Sherlock shook his coat and started walking away. "And don't go telling anyone either... I have enough trouble as it is deciphering the code-as much as I could get," he called over his shoulder.

John shook his head to snap out of his stupor and ran to catch up with Sherlock, still trying to get over what had just happened.

"Sherlock!"

"What?"

John stopped to catch his breath, fumbling in his jacket pocket.

"I took a picture."

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Yeah, it just popped into my head when I was watching 1.2.**


	2. Chapter 2

**An explanation.**

* * *

John and Sherlock were sitting at the table, John eating his breakfast and Sherlock reading the newspaper column about the Empress Pin.

"You and I have barely scratched the surface. There could be thousands of operatives in the UK alone," explained Sherlock.

"You've cracked the code, Sherlock. I'm sure if you gave it to Dimmock he'd be able to find them," said John.

"Then they can just change the book-That's the cunning of book code."

Looking out the window, they both saw an eye spray painted onto the bin across the street. John gave Sherlock a knowing glance before returning to his breakfast. They sat in silence for several minutes, Sherlock staring at John, who was, in turn, staring at something supposedly very interesting in his bowl.

"You have questions," said Sherlock, repeating the phrase he had used not so long ago, after first meeting John.

"What?"

"About the incident on the railway with the cipher,"

"Wha-How on... Know that?" he muttered, stunned.

Sherlock sighed. "You're staring at your bowl, which probably means you're either bored or wanting to say something. I'm going on the latter, since the book you're currently reading is right there," he began, pointing to John's left. "Your mannerisms as well. I saw you self-consciously rubbing your temples as well as stealing several glances at me-especially at my hands. Obviously, you were remembering what happened when I-That incident..."

"The mind-reading thing?"

"Yes, yes-if that's what you call it," said Sherlock quickly.

"Oh, I see."

Sherlock gave him a puzzled look. "See what? I thought you would utter some word of praise as you usually do."

"Yes, well, it was brilliant," Sherlock flicked his eyes to the ceiling, "But, I think, you... don't like to talk about it."

"What makes you say that?" John gave him one of his own smug smiles back at him.

"Alright, fine. You're the second person to know about it," John opened his mouth, "Mycroft was the first," interrupted Sherlock. John sat back on his chair in an attempt to get comfortable. Noticing this, Sherlock went on, "Oh, and now you'll want to hear the whole story."

"Yep." Sherlock uttered a sigh of defeat and started.

"I was fifteen, and I had just reported an incident involving the local rugby club and several girls from my school-"

"-I can see where this is going."

"Anyway... They hadn't been so pleased with that. Two of them were being charged with a third on probation-"

"-Definitely-"

"-Do you want to hear it or what?"

"Yep-Yes. I'll just shut up, as per usual."

"Good. To cut a long story short-they knocked me out and dumped me near an electricity pylon while there was a storm. Said something macho and unintelligible like 'let's see your power of _conduction._'"

"That's terrible."

"Exactly-that's what I told them."

"I'm betting they didn't take that down too well."

"No-they tied me to the pylon and left me there. Lightning struck it and travelled right through me. Should be lethal, I know, but, next thing I know, I wake up in the back of Mycroft's car. He had been following my attackers and was getting me to the hospital."

"So... The lightning strike did something to your brain?"

"Yes-during the first twenty-four hours I could hear every thought of every person within a radius of approximately five metres of me. In the car to the hospital, for instance, I could 'hear' Mycroft's thoughts."

"That must've freaked him out."

"Yes-well, at least he believed me and he didn't go to the hospital. Still got questioned by my parents and my attackers charged, but, apart from Mycroft, no one knew about the incident."

"Do you have any idea what may have happened to, er-you?"

"That the excess electrical energy was taken on by my brain and made it hypersensitive to other people's electrical fields surrounding their central nervous systems. It's a sketchy theory."

"Sounds pretty conclusive to me."

Just then, Sherlock's phone rang. "Hello?"

John stood up and walked to his bedroom.

He had a lot of information to digest.

* * *

**Okay-One more chapter to go.**

**Sorry to disappoint those Doctor Who/Sherlock crossover fans.**

***cough* Foxglade *cough***


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock handed Moriarty the USB stick.

"Ooh... Missile defence plans," he said, pretending to be interested. "Boring!"

As he threw it into the swimming pool, John rushed forward and head locked Moriarty.

"Do it!" he grunted, trying to get a firm hold on Moriarty.

"What?" asked Sherlock hurriedly, trying to point the gun at his arch enemy, not his flat mate and only friend.

"The mind thing."

"And what do you propose I do?"

"I don't know, change his mind or something."

"I've never influenced, only observed-I'm not sure it can be done," Sherlock explained.

"_Just try it!_"

Sherlock put down the gun and approached the now interested Moriarty.

"Ooh-What are you going to do to me?" remarked Moriarty in mock fear. "You really do have your little _pet_ trained well, don't you Sherlock?"

John tightened his arm around his neck.

"Ignore him-that's exactly what he wants. Besides, I need him coherent if I have any chance of doing this," warned Sherlock. He took a deep breath in and placed his hands either side of Moriarty's head. The consulting criminal didn't even have a chance to retort, only gasp, as his foe rifled through his mind.

John remained silent, propping the stunned Moriarty up so Sherlock remained uninterrupted. John noticed the detective's face was scrunched up, as if experiencing difficulty. This was true, this had been the deepest Sherlock had delved into anyone's mind and he was trying hard not to lose himself in Moriarty's memories. Also there was that incessant pain that was affecting both men, making the experience even more uninviting.

After what felt like hours, in reality a little more than two minutes, Sherlock vaguely heard his name being called.

"_Sherlock!_" shouted John for the third time, snapping both him and Moriarty out of the reverie. John stared fearfully at Sherlock's head where three laser dots flitting around. Sherlock understood immediately and took a step back and so did John. Moriarty shook his head as if to get rid of a bad memory and rubbed his temples to relieve the headache that was pounding in his skull.

"Stand down," he boomed, his unexpected words aimed at the snipers. Reluctantly, the quivering red dots retracted from John's and Sherlock's heads. "Consider yourselves lucky I haven't tired of you yet. I'm feeling unusually charitable tonight as to let you two go." He continued, "but I won't let you get so close next time. You haven't touched me yet." A brief expression of puzzlement flitted across John's face before returning to the stoic stare he continued to give Moriarty.

"We'll see what happens next time, Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson," he finished, walking towards the exit.

"Catch... you... later..." replied Sherlock.

"No you won't!" shot back Moriarty before the door slammed shut. John's shoulders sagged in relief. Sherlock rushed to John, quickly taking off the wired jacket and throwing it away. He rubbed his temples, his brain exhausted by the psychic challenge.

"That thing... you did-It was, er, good." Sherlock was never good at compliments.

"Well, I'm glad nobody saw that."

"What?"

"You, ripping my clothes in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk," joked John. They both both laughed nervously, still shaken from the situation.

"So... I guessed it worked."

"What?" said Sherlock, for not the first time that night.

"The thing, influencing Moriarty."

"Yes. Yes it did."

They both smiled-It had worked. They had survived.


End file.
